Chapter 20
Dropping my spoon, I stood and ran to the doorway, hardly believing my eyes.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
He grinned, taking me into his arms—and it didn’t escape my notice that he was using his old walking stick and not his walker.
“I was invited.”
“What?”
By the time we stopped hugging, Sinclair was standing next to us.
“I invited your father here—so you didn’t have to be torn between us.”
There was no stopping the tears that began gushing out of my eyes—because that meant that both he and my father had agreed to this.
Were Sinclair and my dad no longer enemies?
Edna put a hand on my arm, leading me into the heart of the kitchen and handing me a tissue, but Sinclair and my dad weren’t far behind.
Once I turned back to face them, my dad said, “Sinclair called and invited me to spend Christmas here. After what you’d told me about Thanksgiving…” he said, looking at me—but then turning his head to face Sinclair, “about your plans to restore Winchester to its former beauty, to reopen the mine but this time as an environmentally sound one that causes less damage and gives more jobs to people, I rethought my stance about you. Your father and I will never see eye to eye, but I know the sins of the father don’t necessarily dictate what his children will do—and I don’t believe the BS that those sins are passed along. You make your own way in this world and, son, you’ve proven to me that you’re a good man.”
Something I’d been telling myself about Sinclair for a while now as his true self was revealed to me.
Both men shook hands.
Sinclair said to me, “When I called your father a couple of weeks ago, I invited him for Christmas—but then, when I told him my intentions, we changed the conversation.”
I had no idea what he could mean.
“So I invited him to live here. With us.”
Then it was as if the ground had shifted beneath my feet—but in the best way.
And before I could even register just how surreal this all felt, Sinclair reached in his pocket before dropping to his knee in front of me.
“Annalise, I’m asking you for your hand in marriage. I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me, but you do. And I have grown to love you more than I could ever express. Both you and your father say I’m a good man, but I can assure you that I’m the best man I can be only thanks to you.”
My eyes had filled with tears again and my immediate reaction was to say yes—but I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t okay with my father.
With my lips pursed, I tried to smile but failed before I glanced over at my father.
His slow nod and gentle eyes gave his blessing.
“Yes.”
Still on his knee, Sinclair opened the tiny box in his hand and pulled out of it a lovely diamond ring—but my eyes were so blurry with tears, I couldn’t appreciate its intricacies.
All I knew for certain was that there was a big diamond surrounded by dozens of tiny glittery ones—and the band appeared to be silver.
I asked, “White gold?”
He flashed a cocky grin at me.
“And a couple of diamonds.”
I laughed as tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Sinclair, you are the first man to see inside me, to know who I really am—and you accepted me for the person I am. I will always love you until the end of time.”
Sinclair stood, cupping my chin and pulling my mouth to his.
It would have felt like we were the only ones in the world if I hadn’t heard Edna all but whisper to my father, “I’d say it’s about time.”
For the first time in all my years, I could say my life was perfect.
Another first was being able to enjoy watching Sinclair’s vast yard come to life.
It started in March as the grass slowly regained its green color; then, in April, many of the first blooms appeared—tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths.
By mid-May, the date of our wedding, the trees were full of green leaves and the flowers surrounding the house were in full bloom, many of which I didn’t even know the names.
It was the loveliest setting for a ceremony.
With the help of a wedding planner, Sinclair and I designed the perfect wedding.
After setting the date, we made plans and contingency plans—because it was hard to predict what days it might rain when you’re making preparations in January.
Finally, though, the day had arrived—and it was perfect.
The sun was shining and, as I peeked out of my bedroom window.
This would be the last time this bedroom would be considered mine, as Sinclair and I would be sharing the newly remodeled master bedroom in the east wing.
It looked similar to his old bedroom but had some feminine touches—and, of course, it was bigger.
There was plenty of room for a bassinet or crib when the time came and anything else we might want.
My father’s new room would be in the east wing as well, but it wouldn’t be done for another week or so.
In the meantime, Sinclair’s heart had continued to expand.
He invited Edna and her husband to move into the mansion in the west wing.
When Edna had mentioned that she was planning to retire in a year or two, Sinclair doubled down on his offer, telling her she’d been the closest thing he’d ever known to a mother and he wanted to make sure she was taken care of in retirement.
Even still, the mansion had plenty of room to spare.
My father kept the house in Winchester but Sinclair insisted on fixing it up.
After we had all our personal belongings moved to the mansion and the house and yard were brought up to date, Sinclair hired a property manager to handle short-term rentals as well as a cleaning service.
Whenever my dad wanted to spend a few days “back at home,” all he had to do was book the house—and when Sinclair needed to check in on the developments of the newly opened mine or attend an event at WCC, we planned to stay there as well.
I wondered if, after spending one night there, he’d change his mind and either book a hotel or come back to the mansion, but I loved his willingness to try experiencing my old life.
And Sinclair and I had spent months not only planning our wedding but our lives.
We wanted at least two children and agreed that they would be our priority.
We wanted our progeny to feel loved and cared for without being spoiled.
It would be a fine line to walk, but we’d manage.
It helped that Edna and my father would be close by to help.
In the meantime, I had attended my first semester at the University of Denver and had just finished finals the week before.
Never had I been so happy, so ready to embrace the future.
Looking out over the yard, I saw people already starting to arrive.
The wedding planner had arranged for valet parking so we could fit one-hundred fifty of the most important people in the Whittiers’s lives in Sinclair’s front yard.
Our front yard.
It was hard retraining myself to think that way.
Our house.
Our home.
All Sinclair had he freely shared with me as I did with him.
There was a knock at my door, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Come in.”
“No way in hell.” It was Sinclair’s voice at the door.
“I just wanted to tell you I love you—now, while you’re still a single woman.”
I nearly raced to the door—but that was impossible in the custom-made gown.
It truly was lovely—all white and shimmery, made of a fabric I had never touched before.
It was fitted from my bust to my knees in what the designer had called mermaid style so I had to take smaller steps than usual—and the train spread out several feet behind me.
I had yet to attach the veil, but I’d have help with that soon enough.
When I got to the door, I touched it, imagining his hand was splayed in the same spot as mine on the other side so that we were virtually holding hands.
“I love you too.”
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
For just a second, I thought he was serious.
But then I laughed.
It had taken Sinclair several conversations to convince his father that we were getting married, with or without his blessing.
“Hmm. Let’s see. I had a variety of options for what to do with my day…”
Sinclair said, “Emma’s here, baby. She said she needs to see you.”
Smiling, I said, “Please have her come in.” She’d already been in my room for an hour that morning, helping me to look even more beautiful than she had the night I’d gone to the ballet with Sinclair and his family.
And she’d promised that, even if I cried, my makeup wasn’t going anywhere.
She even gave me the remover I’d need to take it off that night.
Sinclair said, “See you soon.”
Shortly after, Emma rapped sharply on the door and opened it right after, saying, “Knock, knock!” I was still close to the door, so I took another step back.
“Are you ready for the veil?”
“I think so.”
I sat in the chair we’d brought in for the occasion where we’d placed it next to the dresser, still full of cosmetics and products that Emma had used to transform my look.
I was still me underneath it all, but with her help, my face was fairer, my lashes longer, my lips pinker.
I looked like a woman .
Like when she’d worked on my hair so that it was pulled from my face but flowing down my back, I was able to watch her work.
The veil was attached to a lovely tiara and would not have to be lifted from my face—and, for that, I was glad, because my eyes already felt heavy from the lashes.
Once she had it secured on my head, she said, “You are absolutely perfect. Do you need anything else?”
“I’m fine. I just feel really nervous.”
“Just know that, even if you sweat, you’ll still look as elegant and fresh as you do right now.”
That wasn’t comforting but I smiled just the same.
Just as she was leaving, Edna appeared.
“I promise I won’t be long, dear, but I wanted to give you something.” Once she’d shut the door behind her, she opened a small box, revealing a light blue garter belt.
“I know you’re not superstitious…and I guess I’m not either, but I wanted to do something for you anyway.”
“We won’t be throwing a garter belt,” I said, remembering all the wedding traditions the planner had gone over with Sinclair and me to see what we wanted to incorporate.
“I know—and that’s the only reason why I’m doing this.” Taking the garter belt out of the box, she said, “You’ve heard that old rhyme Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue ? Well, you’ve got all four right here. This garter belt was given to me by my mother, and I wore it at my wedding, so it’s old. But at my wedding and now for yours, I had to have new elastic put in it so it would actually hug your thigh. That’s the new. And if you give it back to me, then you’re only borrowing it.”
“And, of course, it’s blue.”
“Exactly. So, like I said, even though I’m not superstitious, I just like the idea that we’re covering all the bases here. Just in case.”
I agreed with her and, as soon as she left, I slid it up my thigh, a trick with that snug skirt.
Moments later, Emma reappeared with my bouquet, a spray of lovely-smelling white roses.
Once she and I had descended the stairs, we met my matron of honor—Vivian, who would soon be my sister-in-law—already in the blue dress we’d chosen for her.
Her daughters Olivia and Evelyn were also there in their blue dresses for their roles as flower girls.
Vivian and I hugged and talked, but I wouldn’t remember even a snippet of the conversation later, because I was nearly shaking.
It wasn’t because of Sinclair.
I was more sure of him than anything in my life.
It was all the people out there I’d never met.
We’d invited some of my father’s relatives who lived on the east coast, but they weren’t going to make it…
so, other than Sinclair’s immediate family and a few of his employees—and my father, of course—I didn’t know a soul.
The kitchen was busy, crowded mostly with catering staff, and it wasn’t long before one of the wedding planner’s staff came to get the girls and Vivian so they could walk down the aisle before me.
Keeping it all in the family, Augie was the best man and their son was the ringbearer.
I worried that Warren might feel miffed about it all, but he’d told Sinclair and me that he was happy to not have that responsibility.
He could then drink as much as he wanted—but when Sinclair frowned at the suggestion, Warren laughed and told him he’d be on his best behavior.
But then, in March, he’d made another suggestion: he wanted to officiate the wedding.
Their father blew up at the idea—and Sinclair and I had our reservations—but we ultimately said yes .
Sinclair wanted to develop a better relationship with his family—his brothers, at least, if his father wasn’t interested—and he thought this would be a good step, showing trust and good faith.
And, when we’d practiced the day before, Warren had impressed us both.
He’d gone to the trouble of becoming an officiant through an online church, and that had sent their father into an apoplectic fit when Warren had talked about it during our rehearsal wedding.
But one of the planner’s staff, probably seeing the expression on my face, pulled me aside and told me that if the rehearsal went poorly, that usually meant the wedding would be a success.
As that same staff member came to get me this morning, I remembered it, putting on a smile in an effort to hide my anxiety.
I supposed having my future father-in-law lose his temper could constitute a bad rehearsal.
As long as he behaved today, I’d be pleased.
But I was still anxious.
Why was I so nervous?
It wasn’t because of Sinclair.
I knew without a doubt that he was and would always be the man for me.
Again, it was all the people.
So I had to put them out of my mind.
The assistant and I paused in the main hallway, waiting for a signal from someone else—probably to keep me from being seen by almost everyone until it was time.
Really, though, Sinclair was the main one who needed to wait.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized the wedding staff were communicating electronically, using earbuds with mics—all I knew was that they were pros.
Soon, we were turning the corner into the antechamber.
There stood two other staff members—and my father.
His smile nearly lit up that long room as I approached him, and seeing him nearly made me smile.
It wasn’t just that he was there to give me away—but he wasn’t using a walker—or even a cane.
When I reached him, he held out his elbow.
“I’m so proud of you, princess.”
“Thanks, dad.” Today, I actually felt like one.
Although I couldn’t remember details—walking up the aisle, saying my vows, hearing Warren pronounce us man and wife—what I did recall was Sinclair’s face and striking blue eyes, set off by the black tux against a backdrop of green leaves.
It was his face that kept me focused, his strong hands that kept me steady.
Still, the day was a blur.
But, as I looked back on it, especially seeing the photos, I knew I’d had a dream wedding.
And the weather was perfect.
An open tent was set up on the other side of the yard with tables and a serving line and, as everyone ate, the staff transformed the wedding area into a dance floor.
But my favorite part of all was late that night after everyone was gone.
For the first time, Sinclair and I spent the night in the new master bedroom in the east wing.
After we made love, I snuggled up against him, trying to sleep because we had an early flight the next day.
I’d had to get my passport in the midst of classes and wedding preparation, because Sinclair wanted me to see Europe.
Several countries were on the itinerary and we’d be visiting lots of museums.
Shifting in bed, I tried to put it all out of my mind.
If I didn’t get any sleep, I’d be miserable the next day—but it was difficult, even though I was exhausted.
Between the beauty of the day and the excitement of tomorrow, I couldn’t clear my mind.
Still, it drifted as I tried to recall details about the day.
My memories became clearer after the actual ceremony.
Because our wedding party had been so small, we had the entire family at the table.
After all, the only family members not officially a part of the wedding had been Sinclair’s father and stepmother.
But we kept them at the far end of Sinclair’s side and seated my father right next to me.
At one point, my dad said, “I still don’t care for your new father-in-law, but Sinclair is a hell of a good man, and I couldn’t be prouder of either one of you.”
Of course, his words had set me to tears again.
But I knew my makeup could handle it.
I tried to push out of my head the sour looks on the eldest Whittier’s face.
At least Madeline had been pleasant.
As I lay there in bed, my mind wandered again to the rooms on this wing.
If we only had two children, would they be boys or girls—or one of each?
When would we decide to have them?
We’d tossed around several ideas, including waiting until I was done with school, but we hadn’t quite settled on any specific time in the future.
I couldn’t wait to fill all those rooms with lively, happy children—and it didn’t hurt that, as I’d gotten to know Augie and Vivian’s children better, I’d grown to adore them.
The best part was what I’d originally hated about this mansion: there would always be plenty of room for our children to stay their whole lives if they wanted to.
I vowed in my heart to make sure my children would be happy and loved, experiencing the best childhood imaginable—and I hoped that meant they would have fond memories of their home.
I didn’t want them feeling like they had to escape as soon as possible as I’d felt about Winchester.
There was plenty of room for my children and their future spouses and children—and I imagined someday the mansion would pass to them.
“You still awake, baby?” Sinclair asked, his voice a little gravelly.
“Yes. I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”
Shifting so he could touch his nose to mine, he said, “You might have to sleep on the plane.”
“Yes, probably.”
“Or maybe I could wear you out so much now that your body has no choice but to sleep.” As he started nibbling at the bottom of my earlobe, he asked, “Would you like that?”
My body responded before my brain did.
When I kissed him, I said, “I think I would, Mr. Whittier.”
“Then lie back, Mrs. Whittier. Before you go to Europe, I’m going to take you to heaven.”
No matter where I went with Sinclair, I could hardly wait.
THE END
I hope you loved Sinclair and Annalise’s happy ever after!
But, if you want more, you can find out about their first child and get a taste of their lives in the future in the short story A Perfect Happily Ever After !